


Duality

by AkumaStrife



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Anal Fingering, Ice Play, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, except there's no actual ice, just a curious dead boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 11:30:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16325387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkumaStrife/pseuds/AkumaStrife
Summary: “Ice,” Adam supplies. There’s a smile in his voice, and it makes Ronan shiver. “You like? Wanted to, wanted to try something different.” Firm but uncertain still, even after everything between them.(Or: Noah's hands have always been cold, and always will be. They finally found a good use for them.)





	Duality

Ronan relaxes. Melts. Becomes a puddle under his boyfriend’s hands. He shifts and sighs and groans into his pillow; squirms under each press of thumbs and rolling knuckles and sweeps of hot palms. Adam’s hands are his favorite. He’d do just about anything for the way they press against him, whether it be casual as Adam’s passing by, or how they can pin him down.

He’s drifting in it when Adam takes his hands away. There’s nothing but the emptiness of anticipation as Adam shuffles around behind him. And then the lightest, coolest touch to his spine.

He hisses, back bowing to follow the short drag. Slurs, “The fuck?”

“Ice,” Adam supplies. There’s a smile in his voice, and it makes Ronan shiver. “You like? Wanted to, wanted to try something different.” Firm but uncertain still, even after everything between them.

Ronan’s inhale comes shuddering and he spreads his thighs a little wider to grind down into the mattress. He likes when Adam does things because he wants to or he thinks of it, likes when Adam goes out of his way to make this _fun_. Adam should always get what he wants, should always do whatever he feels like.

“S’fine,” Ronan mutters. He gets more comfortable and relaxes to wait for Adam’s next touch, for Adam to direct this. He doesn’t have to wait for long before there’s another cold drag along one shoulder. Over the other. It traces a few lines and curls of thorns in his tattoo, follows the span of a wing. He shivers, heart pounding and blood rushing in his ears. He’s so-easy-so-fast for Adam, and he can’t even be ashamed.

Distantly he wonders why the ice isn’t melting, that it should be when he feels like he’s burning up.

The ice travels up his neck, more sensitive, more precise—

Ronan gasps hard enough he nearly chokes on it and throws himself onto his side to see his awful, terrible, smirking boyfriend, sitting next to one impossibly solid ghost roommate.

“What the _fuck,_ ” because that’s all he can manage. He blushes _bad_ at the fact that his dick, still embarrassingly hard, twitches against his stomach at Noah being here. Noah’s eyes jerk down, focused. “How long?” he demands. How long has Noah been here? How long has Adam planned this? Was it planned? _Why the fuck_ is Noah here sitting put together next to his disheveled boyfriend?

“An ice cube, darling,” Adam drawls, voice dropping low and teasing. Fuck, Ronan loves that tone; goes hazy under it for a minute before dragging himself back together.

Noah flutters his cold, dead fingers at him in greeting, the little shit. He’s grinning excited and pleased and his eyes… they’re bright. Ronan gets stuck on that for too long. They’re brighter than normal, Noah looking almost flushed in his want. He wants to be here. Adam’s allowing him to be here, to intrude, to join in.

Ronan… doesn’t want to think too hard about all this. Getting this far has been hard enough for him.

“That’s me,” Noah agrees, too late but easy like he hadn’t noticed the space of quiet.

“Ice cubes don’t talk,” Ronan spits out petulantly. He can’t help his interest, can’t help desire curling fast through his nerves like the worst nights when he finds a full bottle.

Noah laughs, high and child-like, but mimes zipping his lips.

“Are those your terms?” Adam asks. His eyes are dark to counteract Noah’s brightness. Heat gathers high on his cheeks.

Ronan thinks—tries not to think—waffles with his own want. But Adam wants this too, doesn’t he? Or else Noah wouldn’t be here. Adam wants this. Adam’s taking liberties and taking control—it’s all Ronan’s ever really wanted.

He turns back over, burying his face in the pillow, hands clenching in the sheets beneath it. After a long moment his legs slide open so he can press into the mattress and alleviate some of the ache, breathing fast. Knowing both Adam _and_ _Noah_ are behind him, that Noah’s here, that his boyfriend and his… well Noah was a crush, wasn’t he? When Ronan was still lying to himself.

Chilled fingertips rest on his hips and travel up. He tenses. The fingers stop. He relaxes. Adam’s hands join Noah’s, high on his shoulders and pressing _down_ and distracting him from cold fingertips disappearing and then coming back slick and exploring their way down, leaving icy trials behind. It’s already so much. It’s a distracting contrast, to have Noah’s cold fingers feeling like innocent interest even as they draw down and press where Ronan shakes, finger tips slipping _low_ and pushing to cup him despite where he’s pressing helplessly into the sheets. Adam’s hands are too warm and only on his tattoo, on the back of his neck, teasing along his throat and curling around it before whispering away. Ronan feels wrecked, feels like he’s slowly being taken apart, feels like he’s going to shake into pieces before anyone truly _touches_ him.

Noah’s better than ice, because he doesn’t melt, he doesn’t heat up, at least not like this, and his hands are still cold when they spread him open and slide a slick finger in before Ronan can think about it too hard. He gasps, lets it out shaking, and forces himself relaxed again, forces himself to take it. He still he makes a shameful sound.

He swears to cover it, to gather himself.

Adam huffs a laugh—no wait, that’s Noah, his cool breath fanning over the dip of Ronan’s lower back. Noah brushes his lips against Ronan’s spine, finger working in too fast with eager inexperience. Ronan shivers for him anyway. Shifts to make it more comfortable and takes him deeper.

“He gonna fuck me too?” Ronan manages, turning his face enough to be heard but not having to look at Adam and give himself away.

Warm hands come up over his head, down to his cheeks. Adam scoots closer to drag Ronan’s torso into his naked lap so he can continue petting him, so when Ronan goes to hide his shame it’s in Adam’s thigh and… well, it’s a nice thigh. He opens his mouth against the smooth skin, kissing sloppy and sucking light marks there where only they’ll see. And Noah.

The thought travels down his nerves like a shock and he’s groaning with it, rocking into the bed, rocking back into Noah, rocking forward so he can tongue at Adam’s navel and kiss down to breathe hot over Adam’s cock. It is, also, a very nice piece of Adam. “Is he?” he asks again, letting his lips drag over heated flesh.

Adam shivers, hands curling around his arm, around his ribs. “No.” His voice shakes but his words are firm. “No, only I do that.”

“Shit,” Ronan mutters, utterly weak at the underlying meaning. That Adam says it like that instead of the truth that Noah technically _can’t._

“Just this,” Noah says, breaking the rules, but he slides another finger in beside the first and Ronan chokes on any protests. It’s different than with Adam because he feels it so _vividly._ He’s never been _cold there_ , but Noah’s persistent and seeming to have a good time doing just this, is fingering him at his own pace, in his own world, and all Ronan can do is be tugged along. “You really like this,” Noah continues, conversational and pleasantly surprised. “Adam said you would, but you really like this.”

Ronan catches a pathetic sound between his teeth and hides a furious blush against Adam’s stomach. Decides he doesn’t have to listen to Noah’s chatter if he’s distracted, so he focuses on better things, like licking up Adam’s dick and sucking him down fast, humming content when Adam curses above him and hitches his hip up, pushing deeper.

“Feels good?” Noah asks. Ronan’s _gone,_ has no idea who Noah’s talking to, so he doesn’t answer.

“Yeah,” Adam chokes out. “Yeah, he—he likes that. He always says it feels good.” Ronan hums in agreement, pulling up to hollow his cheeks and yank a shout out of Adam. “ _Jesus_ , Ronan. He must, because he—his mouth—“ but doesn’t finish. Noah makes a sound like he understands anyway, and twists his fingers purposeful until Ronan’s seeing stars.

“You too?” Adam manages.

Ronan doesn’t understand that. He doesn’t pay attention to it, because he doesn’t have to.

“Yes,” Noah whispers. He sounds unsteady, like maybe he’s going to cry, but that doesn’t make sense. His hand stutters and struggles to find a rhythm, but he does, curling his fingers, learning to move with Ronan’s writhing. Relearning? Ronan can’t remember if Noah ever did this before he—

Doesn’t matter.

Noah licks a broad stripe up the cleft of his ass, kisses the base of his spine, and cold air settles in its wake. Heat floods under Ronan’s skin, dizzy for a moment as he finds himself rutting into the sheets urgently, chasing a wild impulse. It’s an afterthought to squeeze his already closed eyes tighter, to suck Adam down again until his neck aches with the awkward angle and how trying not to move the rest of him away from Noah puts strain on him. Worth it. He’s trembling and every nerve lit up like the impossible string lights at the barns— _stop thinking about the barns, stop thinking about—_

It hits him hard and fast, Noah’s fingers pressing insistent and curious and _hard_ , and he muffles a ragged groan into Adam’s lap. He's immediately swept away in the syrupy flush of _hot_ and _raw._ He’s moving with Noah mindlessly, toes curling until they cramp as he rocks frantic down into the mattress. Belated he registers Adam, who digs his fingers into Ronan’s back, into Ronan’s tattoo, into Ronan’s shoulders as he grunts and surges up without getting far. He thrusts up into Ronan’s mouth, his dick pulses heavy across Ronan’s tongue, and Ronan swallows him down even as he chokes and winces against the pain in his nose.

He only comes back to himself with the shock of chill against his thighs, hands still in him twisting and searching, Noah’s breath fast and light against his heaving back. He thinks, wildly, that Noah _can’t_ and thus doesn’t have any reason to stop. Especially if he’s enjoying himself. Especially if it’s something that vicariously feels nice for him (Ronan has always wondered.)

Ronan hisses, squirming away and yet Adam’s hold on him keeping him in place, because Noah seems to have no desire in stopping.

Noah carries on, making soft little keening noises against Ronan’s skin. Adam breathes heavy above him, and his hands stay similarly heavy, holding him down.

Ronan’s jaw twinges, but he can’t help shuddering back into Noah’s hands anyway.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> also on tumblr, come say hi: http://akumastrife.tumblr.com/post/179030097581/soooooooo-34-because-noahs-basically-an-ice-cube


End file.
